


The Butcher’s Daughter

by ArmouredDwarf



Category: Peaky Blinders, Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Alfie Solomons, Angry Sex, Dominant Alfie Solomons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gangsters, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Makeup Sex, Reunion Sex, Rough Sex, Serious, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Top Alfie Solomons, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmouredDwarf/pseuds/ArmouredDwarf
Summary: Amy McGuire never expected to be involved  in the dingy world of London’s gangster underground, but that changed when Darby Sabini marched into her father’s butcher shop. The Italian gangster gave her two options-infiltrate rival Jewish gang leader Alfred Solomons’ rum distillery, or her father would die. But espionage really wasn’t Amy’s strong suit, and neither was seducing older, very dangerous men. She knew she’s have to pluck up the courage and leave her old life behind, lest her father meet his demise at the end of a pistol. But would Alfie succumb to her innocent charm? Or would she find herself in pieces, drifting down the river in a rum barrel bound for Timbuktu?
Relationships: Alfie Solomons/Original Character(s), Alfie Solomons/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 65





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! 
> 
> This is my very first fanfic, so any feedback would be appreciated!
> 
> I absolutely love (Dom) Alfie, and always love Peaky fics where the main character is a spy, so I thought I’d combine the two together. 
> 
> Tags are the main kinds of intimacy in this fic- it’ll be mainly light bdsm, where Alfie is definitely the one in charge. If there are any triggers, I’ll make sure to post them, but I’m making sure to keep out domestic/sexual assault, and racial slurs from this story (even though I know the characters use them in the show). 
> 
> While a lot of these ideas were from my own head, or are very common in the fic world, I was also inspired by another Alfie/OC ship on AO3 called “Camden Town”, by TaylorChow. Pleasehead over and give them some love! Here’s a link to their work, as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949257/chapters/47238127
> 
> The main character is an OC, but I tried not to describe her too much, is case you wanted to put your own character in there instead.
> 
> Enjoy! I have most of the story written already, so I’ll be posting frequently.

As soon as those suits sauntered through our shop’s doors, I knew there would be trouble. 

“Dad”, I hissed through gritted teeth, fear creeping into every syllable, “the Italians are here. “

My father was in the back room of our tiny butcher shop, sharpening the well used knives and preparing for our end of the day cleaning routine. I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the rasp of metal on whetstone, but he must have sensed something was wrong, as no sooner than I uttered those words, he was at my side. 

I subtly reached for the rifle hidden behind the counter, but Dad shot me a warning look. It’s not like I could have used it- I’d never fired a gun before, but sometimes simply waiving around a loaded gun is enough for your enemies to think twice. 

Dad smoothed the bloodstained apron over his belly and although it was nearly unnoticeable, I could see his fingers trembling. He eyed the group of men, who numbered at least six, with nothing less than pure terror. “Get in the back,” he mumbled in the direction of the floor, “now”. 

“Not so fast”, a male voice interjected from the back of the group, his voice echoing throughout the empty shop, “she stays here.” The man stepped in front of the others, and though his stature was slight, it was clear that he called the shots. I thought I recognized the short man with the slicked back hair and pencil thin moustache, and Dad confirmed my suspicions. 

“Mr Sabini,” Dad croaked. He was wringing his hands now, his forehead beaded with sweat. “I thought I paid your boys last week? There’s no need for a shakedown!”

Sabini smiled like a fox who’d just cornered a rabbit. “Not a shakedown, Mr McGuire. A proposal.” He closed the distance between us and now stood with his stomach pushed against the front counter, his palms resting on the lacquered wood of the countertop. 

“At least let my daughter leave,” Dad whispered, practically squeaking. “She’s only my helper and shouldn’t be involved in any of this.”

Sabini chuckled, removing the black fedora from his greasy scalp. “See, that’s where your wrong, Aaron. She’s part of the offer, so I think it would only be fair to let her in on what we have planned.” He flashed another wicked grin, but in my direction this time. I swallowed and looked to the floor. 

Commies and gangsters, those were the two groups you didn’t fuck with, my Dad had always said. My father paid Sabini protection money, yes, but he made sure to keep his nose out of anything else involving the the Gangsters. But now it seemed like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Sabini barked formally, extending a wrinkled hand towards me, “Darby Sabini”. I swallowed and mirrored his movement, cringing as he brought my small hand to his lips. “I’m Amy McGuire.”

He brought my hand away from his mouth rather quickly, a look of disgust flashing across his face. “Your hands smell like blood.” I hid my hands in my apron as Sabini turned towards my father. “Right, McGuire. Here’s what we need from you.” Sabini began pacing around the shop, his goonies staying back towards the door. “I have reason to believe my dear old friend Alfie Solomons and his gang over in Camden Town have formed an alliance with the Peaky Blinders. Rumour has it that they’re determined to bring me down, starting with my clubs.” Sabini scowled running a hand through his hair in thought. “Imagine the fucking balls on those Peakies- a puny little Birmingham razor gang against our lot?” 

“They must have more balls than brains,” my father said, with a half smile, the fear not leaving his voice. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Sabini mused. “It breaks my heart to hear Alfie’s going along with all that fucking noise.  
He’s always been jealous of me, you know? Jealous of my power and success. Maybe he thinks this is his way to get the top? No matter. The point is, Mr McGuire, I believe these rumours. I trust Alfie fucking Solomons as far as I can throw him, and he’s a big fucking fellow, so that’s not very far. But I need to be sure and once I’m sure, I need information. I need information on the deals The Blinders are making with Alfie, and what their next moves are. I don’t intend just to thwart their plans-I intend to fucking destroy them, like the little pissants they are!” Sabini snarled and banged his fists against the shop’s wall, causing a hand painted picture of London to shutter violently from its perch. 

Sabini made his way back to the counter and looked my father straight in the eyes. “The problem is,” he said softly, regaining some of his composure, “Alfie’s smart.” He tapped his temple. “He knows my people and could sniff them out a mile away. What we need,” he muttered, his gaze falling to me, “is someone plain, timid and unsuspecting. Someone who could seem so harmless, that Alfie and his boys would drop their guard. Someone who could be our eyes and ears over at that fucking joke of a bake shop, and then get out before anyone notices she’s gone.”

My heart skipped. Sabini clearly said ‘she’, so I only assumed he was referring to me playing the roll of the spy. 

“Mr Sabini, I’m just a butcher’s daughter.” I protested. “I’ve never done a minute’s worth of dishonourable work. I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a spy for a gang! I feel I wouldn’t be of much help to you.”

“But see, that’s why it’s so convincing! Look at yourself!” Sabini gestured to the meat display case beside the counter. My eyes flicked to my glassy reflection. The imagine that blinked back had short, wavy brown hair, doe eyes, and a plump, Rubinesque frame. Though I had a stout build, I was laughably short- so short, in fact, that on more than one occasion, strangers confused me for a child playing hookie while I was out running errands for Dad during the week. He was right- I looked plane and innocent, because that’s exactly what I was. 

“Gangsters know when something’s too good to be true,“ Sabini continued. “You send in a gorgeous tart to get close to the operation, and they know something’s up. You send a capable, ambitious man with a convenient backstory, you find him floating face down in the Thames a month later. “But you,” Sabini pointed a finger at me. “You’re genuine-face value. What you see is what you get and frankly”, he eyed me up and down, “you don’t get that much”. My cheeks stung. 

“But the most important thing is, you are completely removed from us. You have no idea how we operate, who our members are, and the location of our hideouts. If Alfie does suspect something and wrings your neck for the truth, you won’t be able to tell him anything.” A cruel expression came over Sabini’s face and I had to use all of my energy to fight down a nervous yelp. 

“Sabini, you can’t do this!” My Dad started, leaning against the counter. “Our shop has always paid you on time and stayed out of your business. We’ve been loyal.” Dad almost seemed like he was begging now. “Please leave us in peace, as a gesture of mercy. Please. “

Sabini’s eyes were as cold as ice, which didn’t surprise me. You didn’t become one of the kingpins of London by being sympathetic. I felt for my Dad, but I knew his pleas would fall on deaf ears. 

“And what if I refuse?” I said, almost whispering. I knew what the answer was, but I needed my Dad to hear it. There was no way Sabini was letting us worm our way out of this. 

Sabini reached into his black coat and pulled out a pistol. Before either of us could move, he grabbed my father by the shirt collar and hauled him half way over the counter, the barrel of his gun pressing into the side of Dads’s head. 

“Ms McGuire, If you refuse, I’ll paint this shop with your father’s blood. I’ll then pay your cousins in Bath a little visit. What were their names again? The Tulleys?” 

My blood ran cold.

“So if you prefer your family alive and well, and not splattered against a wall or at the bottom of a river somewhere, I would fucking accept.” Sabini spat, his eyes never leaving my face. 

I cast one last, sad look at my father, who met my gaze with an equal amount of fear and remorse. I gave a slight nod in his direction, then turned again to Sabini. I gingerly stuck out my hand, a grimace forming on my face. 

“We have a deal”.


	2. The Evening Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy prepares for her role as a spy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter two! Sorry we haven’t seen Alfie yet- I told you it’s a slow burn. You’ll get to see him soon, I promise!

It took all of my effort to keep from sobbing as I packed my battered suitcase. The case sat propped open like a steamed clam, as I tossed wool socks, various pairs of shoes and jumpers into its maw. I reached for my vanity, which held the small bit of makeup I owned, and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I scowled at the reflection that looked back. I looked awful. After all that happened, I hadn’t really gotten much sleep, so large bags were starting to bunch under my eyes. The stress had caused a breakout across my chin, that I usually cupped when I was crying. I sat myself down and began to apply my makeup liberally in a desperate attempt to camouflage my ragged appearance. 

Pale foundation, black mascara and eyeliner, coral lipstick and rouge. 

I had a second, lingering look at myself. I definitely looked better, but on the inside, I still felt like death. 

I walked to my closet and opened the wooden double doors. Sabini wanted me to play the innocent angle, so I decided to keep my wardrobe simple. Brown and grey dresses with a high waist to flatter my frame. I struggled with the flapper fashion trend, it mainly being for tall, lithe women. 

There was one dress that stood out from the rest, however. I pulled it out slowly, as if it would break apart in my hands. It was a flapper dress, but it had been tailored to fit me exactly. The whole of the dress was covered in hand sewed beads of white, turquoise, green, gold and baby blue. From the right hip, running down the side of the leg, was an intricate, beaded peacock, that was so lifelike, it was hard to imagine the image was rendered by human hands. It was by far the most expensive thing I owned. My father had commissioned it from a seamstress friend last year and spent a small fortune on it. I wasn’t exactly sure where he got the money for it, and he refused to tell me. 

I remembered when he first gave it to me, and I screamed at him to return it, that we couldn’t afford something so frivolous. But the hurt look in his eyes made me stop.

“You’ve given so much to me, to this family, Amy.” Dad spoke softly, drumming his fingers on his sides. 

It was true. Having Mum die in childbirth was devastating for Dad, but losing Eddy at the Somme was the final straw. Dad was frail to begin with, but Eddy’s death seemed to take all the life out of him. Eddy and I had helped at the butcher shop since we were old enough to talk, but with my brother gone, and my father only half on this earth, the rest of the responsibilities fell to me. Because of that, I didn’t have many friends, as all of my free time had to be spent at the shop, and my education was limited. I also couldn’t settle down and have a family, as meeting a suitor, marrying and having children took time and money, and on both accounts, I could confidently say I had little. I never resented Dad for it- it wasn’t easy raising two kids and running a business by yourself- but I knew Dad had always felt guilty about placing so much responsibility on my shoulders. 

I packed the peacock dress away with the others and closed the suitcase with a snap. Hoisting it with two hands, I made my way quietly from my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. Pangs of remorse playing on my heartstrings like a lyre, I placed a handwritten note addressed to my father on the kitchen table. 

I told Dad I was to start work for Sabini next week, but that was a lie. A day after the Italian’s ultimatum, I received a letter in the mail. It was addressed from my relatives in Bath, but upon opening it, I found a list of instructions inside, dictated by Sabini himself. 

I was to lie to my father about when I was to start work. “No need to work the old man up,” Sabini had said. There was also the fear that Dad wouldn’t let me leave, that he would make me stay by force. As delicate a man as he was, I don’t think I could ever have fought him enough to let me go. 

Instead, I was to leave in two days time. A driver would be at the house at 11:00pm to collect me. I’d be taken to a small apartment that had been secured for me near Camden Town. Then, the rest was up to me. Sabini had finished the letter advising that while I had no specific timeline by which to have the task completed, any signs of shirking on my duties would not be taken lightly. 

A flash of lights though the front window signalled the driver’s arrival. I glanced back over my shoulder to my father’s room, and listened for a moment, to his soft snorting. Then quickly steeling myself, I picked up my suitcase and slipped as silent as a shadow out the door and into the cool night.

I don’t know for how long we drove. The driver was as still and silent as a statue, only grunting if another driver cut him off. We wizzed past historical buildings, parkways and rivers until we got to a point where I couldn’t recognize my surroundings anymore. Not like I had been to this part of London anyways. The motion of the car and the night air made me sleepy, and just before my eyes drooped shut, the driver perked up. “We’re 5 minutes out”, he said, probably realizing I had almost passed out.

I jumped in the cushioned seat, muttering thanks, before smoothing my hair and clothes. 

“The most effective lie is the one based in truth.” The driver glanced at me for the first time since I entered the vehicle. 

“Pardon me?”

“Any lie you tell after this point, base it on your own experiences. Bend things as necessary, but always leave a hint of truth to them.“ the driver shifted slightly in his seat. “Gangsters can sniff out lies like a hound. They can see it in your eyes, in your body. Basing a lie on truth makes it easier for you, and therefore harder for them to tell what’s right and what isn’t.” 

My mouth gaped slightly. That was clever. “M-much appreciated.” I said, smiling a little. “As you can probably tell, this is my first-“

“We’re here.” The driver slammed on the breaks in front of a tiny, red bricked apartment, which was jammed in between another housing unit, and a flower shop.

I jolted in my seat and cursed under my breath. The driver, unfazed, reached into his pocket and handed me a package. “Don’t fuck it up,” he said bluntly. “Death waits for you at either end if you do, and I don’t know who I’d rather have kill me, Solomons or Sabini”.

“Thanks.” I blurted, snatching the package from his hand and dragging my suitcase from the back seat of the car. I slammed the door behind me and lurched towards the apartment, the soft London rain only just starting to tap against the cobblestones. 

With a sigh, I threw myself on the simple bed made up for me. The mattress squeaked under my bottom, and I prayed it was because of age and not mice. 

I emptied the contents of Sabini’s package onto the worn duvet and gasped. A giant wad of cash, fastened by a metal clip, caught my eye first. Second, a hand drawn map of the area. Third, a pistol. A torn note laid before the gun and I wearily inspected it. 

“Don’t be using this liberally. The gun or the money. You won’t be getting more of either if they’re all used up. D.S.”

I let out a shakey sigh and pushed the contents of the parcel on the floor. With my clothes still on and on top of all the bedding, I fell asleep in my new home.


	3. The Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy tries to win over the Camden Town bakers, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEERRREE’S ALFIE! 
> 
> he’s so much fun to write, oh my god. 
> 
> Now we’re getting to the fun parts, so stick around for more :)

I surprised myself at how much I liked Camden Town. It could have been because of where the Italians chose to house me, right along a parkway with towering trees and sweet smelling flowers, but either way, I wasn’t too sore about my job so far. 

I passed by little shops and cute houses, my heart aching whenever I saw a butcher’s. I glanced quickly at the map Sabini gave me, making sure I was en route to the place he had marked with a circle, in red ink. 

I found it soon enough, and analysed the building with an inquisitive eye. The bakery didn’t seem skeevy or out of place- it didn’t scream “front for a rum distillery”, but I guess that’s why they picked it. The front door was propped open and I could smell the delicious scent of yeast and flour waft through the air. 

I sauntered into the building to see three women working faster than I’ve ever seen- kneading dough, plating pastries and slicing bread. The oldest of the three, looked up from her bundle of brown dough and addressed me. 

“Anything for you, Miss?”

“Ah-just looking for some bread” I smiled, sheepishly. 

“Brown or white” she asked, going back to working the dough with her palm. 

“Brown, please.”

One of the younger women who was busy packaging some scones, stopped what she was doing and reached for a beautiful, crispy loaf resting in a wicker basket at the end of the counter.

I reached into my pocket and placed some coins on the counter. Well, here goes nothing. 

“You look rather busy” I quipped, leaning over the countertop. “Any chance you needed an extra pair of hands?”

“Three’s all we need,” the older lady said quickly, more to her dough than to me. 

I gulped. I wasn’t a pushy person by nature- I was more likely to have someone walk all over me than I was to fight back. But Dad’s life was at stake. 

“I-I figured as much, but is there any way you could make room for a fourth? I’m a good worker and a fast learner!”

“No room. Sorry”. 

“Please I-“ 

“What part of no don’t you understand, eh? Fuckin’ ‘ell”.

I gulped and turned around slowly to see who I could only assume was Alfie Solomons, leaning in the doorway. 

He was quite a large man and I was sure if he hadn’t been nursing whatever illness he had that caused him to favour his right leg, he would have been even larger. His white shirt was wrinkled and his dark waistcoat unbuttoned all the way, hanging limply at his sides. He wasn’t clean shaven, like most of the men I’d known. He had a scraggly beard and a head of hair that, while short, seemed wild in its own way. His eyes were what unnerved me the most, though- those blue - grey orbs staring at me with an intensity I never experienced before. I shuddered slightly. 

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just in desperate.”

“Desperate, yeah? Sara, how many desperate people a day come in here and beg us for a   
fucking job, eh?”

“Too many.” The oldest woman, Sara, said curtly. 

“Too fucking many,” Alfie repeated. “Look, I’m the owner, right, and I say we’ve got no fucking room for another tart in this shop.”

I tucked a curl behind my ear, nervously. Well, this was going nowhere, fast. I had to think of something and in that moment, Sabini’s driver popped into my head. A lie based on the truth. Then it clicked. 

“It’s not for myself, it’s for my family.” I made sure to add another layer of desperation to my voice. “It hasn’t been the same since my brother died in the Somme”. 

For a split second, I saw Alfies face change. Along with the letter of instructions Sabini sent me before I left home, he also gave me extensive information on Alfie’s past. They were schoolmates, after all. I had a feeling that a Captain of the British Army might have a soft spot for other victims of war. I was right. 

I continued, holding Alfie’s steady gaze. “He was just a boy, a private in the London Rifles Brigade. He was gunned down by Germans as he was going over the top. They tore him up so bad, there wasn’t much of him to send back to us. All we got were his boots.” In spite of myself, I felt a tear gather in the corner of my eye. “Dad hasn’t been the same since. I need all the help I can get.”

Alfie cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Yer Mum?”

“Dead as well.”

“Don’t tell me she was torn up by the fucking Germans too then, eh?”

I swallowed. “Childbirth.”

We stared at each other for a short while. I could swear I saw the the cogs behind his eyes turning. I hoped he couldn’t see what was behind mine.

“Not fucking Jewish, are ye?”

“No.”

“Hmm. Well, that is a black mark towards you then, innit?” Alfie scratched his beard in thought. “Right, Sara, get a fucking apron from the back then and saddle up this filly.”

Alfie took a few steps so that there was only about half a foot between us. He smelled of rum, smoke and some sort of spice. He took a large finger and used it to lift my chin. “Now before you go thankin’ me, listen here. I’m not gonna hire you until I know you can hack it. This place is fucking brutal, yeah. Eats people up and spits them out in pieces. You have one day to prove your worth, girl. Starts tomorrow. If you fuck up, you’re out. You piss Sara off, you’re out, you scratch your ass at the wrong time, you’re fucking out! Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, perfectly clear Mr.....”

“Solomons.”

“Right. Understood. Thank you for the chance, Mr Solomon’s.” I managed to muster a small smile, which Alfie rebuffed with a snort. “

“Now fuck off, yeah? Be here at 3:00am sharp. “

“Y-yes! Will do.” I narrowly avoided a balled up apron thrown at my head by Sara, who was still behind the counter. She was not impressed. She shot me one more disapproving look before she disappeared into a back room.

I tucked the apron under my arm, and moved past Alfie to get out the door. I turned back to l at the group, a genuine smile plastered in my face. “You won’t regret it, I promise you.”


	4. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy begins the gruelling trial to become a baker’s assistant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who’ve gotten this far already! I really appreciate it :)

I stood, shrouded in darkness, at the doorway of the bakery the next morning. I yawned and tapped on the doorframe with my knuckles, clutching the white apron in my other hand. The door creaked open and a familiar face shone out through the gloom. 

“Morning!” I chirped to Sara, putting on my best, eager smile. 

Sara grunted in response and opened the shop’s door fully, scampering back into the dimly lit room. 

“Put your apron on and grab a bowl, sweetheart. We’ve got work to do”. 

I can say that in all my years of work, which totalled about 20, I had never been worked so hard. By the end of the day, my forearms and shoulders were aching from kneading dough, blisters were forming on the back of my heels from running about the shop, I was covered head to toe in flour, and was minutes away from falling asleep beside a stack of wheat. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck and in that moment, I was thankful to have such short hair. 

It was around 8:00pm. The shop was closed and we had just finished cleaning. Sara swept up the last specks of dust from the floor, while the other two girls, who I learned were named Anna and Rebecca, carried freshly cleaned bowls to the the bakery. I gave the countertops a once over with a damp cloth, making sure no smudges were left behind. 

“Right then, we’re all done here,” Sara stated, binning the dirt and putting away the broom. 

“How did I do?” I asked, trying to keep my eyelids open. 

Sara thought for a moment, her eyes wandering along my flour-covered frame. “You’ve got a lot to learn. Your bread making skills leave a lot to be desired.”

Dread filled my stomach. This was it- I blew my one chance to get close to Alfie and save my family. Now they were as good as dead, and it was all because of me. I closed my eyes and sighed, starting to make my way towards the door. 

“But.”

I stopped mid step and turned to face Sara, who had what appeared to be a ghost of a smile on her thin lips. “...you work hard. Harder than a lot of people who have passed through these doors looking for a job. You work like you’ve got the Devil behind you.”

Ha! If only she knew. 

“For that reason, I’m keeping you. But not as a baker.” She gestured to my workstation behind me. “You burn bread like it’s fuel, but you’re the best damn cleaner in this shop, so that’s what you’ll do. While myself and the other two ladies make the bread, it’ll be your job to keep this place sparkling clean. I want to be able to eat off of the floor.” Sara reached her hand out to me, “so...do we have a deal?”

I stood up straight, grinning like I’d just won the lottery, which I kind-of had. 

“Deal. I never liked baking much anyways,” I chuckled, shaking her hand vigorously. 

The smile remained as Sara nodded towards the door, wrenching her hand from my grip. “Alright alright, go on home with you. We’ve got another early morning head of us.”

Floating about three feet off the ground, I made a beeline for the door, only to ram, face first, into the chest of one Alfie Solomons.

That smell again. Rum, smoke and spice. 

“Where’s the fucking fire then, eh?” Alfie muttered, pulling me from his chest by the shoulders. “You done such a bad job that Sara’s got you runnin’ out of there like a scared fucking rabbit?”

“On the contrary,” I smirked, gently taking his large, calloused hands from my shoulders. “I got the job”. I stopped, feeling Sara’s eyes on the back of my head. “Err...sort of. I’m your cleaning lady now. Apparently I burned too many loaves.” I scratched the back of my head and looked at the floor in embarrassment.

Alfie looked genuinely surprise, and shot a look at Sara over my head. “Cleaning lady, eh....” he scratched his beard, an action that I figured was a nervous tick. 

“Well fuck me, didn’t think you could pull it off. But a promise is a promise, innit?” Having finished scratching, he stuck out his bear-like hand for me to take. “Looks like I’ll be seeing’ you again soon then, Ms....”

“Amy. Amy Birch”. I said, thinking up a made up last name on the spot. I marvelled at how my small hand was dwarfed by his large one.

“Birch...Birch...” Alfie rolled my pseudonym around in his mouth like toffee. He made eye contact with me, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. He was terrifying, but I couldn’t deny how Handsome he was, scraggly facial hair and all. After some time, he let go of my hand. He muttered something else under his breath that I didn’t catch, and slowly turned and walked out the door. 

I exhaled, not even realizing I was holding my breath in the first place, and feeling bold, started out the door after him. Exiting the store, I shouted into the night.

“Mr Solomons!”

Alfie, who was about half way down the street, stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn around. 

“I wanted to thank you again for giving me a chance. You have no idea what this means for my family.” That was genuine. 

He grumbled, but didn’t move. 

I took a few steps closer to him, attempting to bridge the gap between us and prevent the need for me to shout. 

I continued. “When my brother died, and my father gave up, I didn’t think I had anything left to live for- I had nothing left to give, either to myself or my family. I guess I gave up too.” I sniffed quietly, trying to mask my tears. “You’ve given hope to people that had none, and for that, I’ll never be able to repay you. No matter how many floors I sweep, or bowls I scrub.”

With that,Alfie turned, and I caught, for just a moment, a tender, softness in his eyes. We looked at each other for I don’t know how long, before Alfie turned again, to continue walking down the street. 

“Yeah well, I guess that means you’ll have to wash a fucking tonne of bowls for me then, eh,” He shouted over his shoulder. I let out a chuckle, in spite of the tears spilling down my cheeks.


	5. The Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy realizes that she’ll have to up her game if she wants to save her Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! More readers! Hey guys and thanks for continuing to support this little fic. These few chapters coming up are my favourites, so I hope you enjoy reading them as I much as I enjoyed writing them!
> 
> By the way, I’m not Jewish, so I had to do research whenever speaking about customs. If I’ve said anything incorrect, please feel free to let me know!

The next two weeks were productive, yet fruitless. Productive, because I felt myself beginning to settle into my roll as the designated bakery cleaner; Sara was impressed at how tidy I kept the place and I actually began forming friendships with Rebecca and Anna. Fruitless because, despite him being the owner of the bakery, I hadn’t seen Alfie since our conversation on the street. I knew, from Sabini’s information, that he was busy running his rum distillery behind the bakery, along with other unsavoury business ventures, but I figured he would stop to check in more.

I wasn’t the only one who felt my efforts were useless. Sabini thought so, too.

I was to post a letter every week to Sabini detailing the information I had collected. To remove suspicion, and so I could be kept in the dark about the Italian gang’s many hideouts, I was instructed to have the letters sent to my father’s address. I’m only assuming Dad would hand deliver them to the Italians himself, or Sabini would send one of his goonies to collect it from Dad personally. My heart ached thinking of my Dad, frail and alone, having to be pestered by those gangsters every week. I still battled with feelings of guilt for not saying goodbye to him properly, but I knew ultimately it was for the best. Besides, I was bound to have this all wrapped up and see him soon.

Right?

It was Friday, the end of my second week in Camden Town, when I came home to a letter hastily stuffed through my apartment’s mail slot. I looked at the address and lo and behold, it was from Dad. I eagerly grabbed it off the floor, only to be surprised at how heavy the envelope was. Bringing to closer to my face to inspect it further, my stomach lurched. Envelopes weren’t supposed to be splattered with blood, were they? 

With shaking hands, I tore the top of the letter and reached inside. My fingers touched something hard, cold and wet. I choked. I pulled the object out and realized I was holding my dads bloodstained watch. I knew it was his because he never took it off. It was his prized possession and the last gift my mother ever gave him- an anniversary present that she had to save for a year to afford. The clock face was shattered, the hands permanently pointing to 6:15. Droplets of dried blood were sprayed across the broken face and the little brass fastening buckle was warped, like someone ripped it off his wrist in a hurry. I dropped the envelope in shock and barely noticed as small note fluttered out of the opening. It landed at my feet and I went to pick it up, but it was like I was cemented in place. I could still read the bold, scratchy handwriting from where I was, and I stifled a cry. 

HES RUNNING OUT OF TIME

It was time for phase two. 

That Saturday morning, I put on the nicest of the plain dresses I took with me- a cool brown tone that matched my eyes. I must have sat in front of my little mirror for an hour, applying more eye makeup than I would ever normally feel comfortable wearing. Rouge and rosey pink lipstick followed, with a touch of perfume behind the ears and along my collarbone to complete the ensemble. I sighed, not even recognizing myself. I tousled my dark locks with a free hand while I neatened up my stained lips with another. 

I donned a forest green jacket to ward off the damp chill of morning, and with my heart on my sleeve, I left the apartment complex and started to walk towards Camden Town.

Though I wasn’t Jewish, I knew Saturday was part of the Shabbat, the Sabbath, a period of rest recognized by practicing Jews. While I was sure the rum distillery was still functioning on some level, the front of house bakers were always given Saturday off. My plan banked on Alfie keeping his work schedule to a minimum, therefore allowing he and I to have a proper chat. 

I reached the bakery by late morning, acknowledging the locked doors and fettered windows, and continued on down the length of the building. Turning left, I carried on until I reached the back of the bakery, which not only housed Alfie’s distillery, but his office. A large black door was stamped in the middle of the building, that I knew was manned by at least one guard. I stopped in front of the door and gulped, raising my fist to rap on the large wooden surface. 

Knock knock knock. 

To my relief, the guard on duty was Ollie, Alfie’s nervous right hand man. I knew I’d have an easier time working on him than one of Alfie’s other cronies. 

“Morning Ollie,” I sang, batting my eyelashes. “Shabbat Shalom”.

“Err, Shalom, Amy.” The tall man muttered, clearly surprised by my presence. “The bakery’s closed today, remember?”

“Oh I know!” I continued, still being as sweet as I could muster. “I just popped by to see if I could have a quick word with the boss!”

“With Alfie?” Ollie said, incredulously. “He...he’s very busy at the moment.”

“Tsk tsk. That’s rather naughty, isn’t it? What about the Sabbath?” I took another step, so I was closer to Ollie than I suspected was comfortable. “It would only be for a quick moment. I’ll be in and out before you can say Camden Town. Okay?” 

Ollie swallowed. “Well, I-“

“Please Ollie? I’ll be forever grateful.” I fluttered my eyelashes one more time, internally feeling rather disgusted with myself. 

Ollie sighed, clearly caving. “Alright, but just for a moment, alright? Like I said, he’s a busy man. Shabbat or no Shabbat.”

“You’re the best, Ollie!” I patted his chest and pushed past him, walking directly into the dimly lit distillery. I heard quick footsteps behind me as Ollie jogged to catch up. “

“Joshua, you take my place for a bit, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Ollie shouted back as he managed to catch up with me. “You know, for a little woman, you sure walk fast”. 

I giggled, “I’m just keeping to my promise, Ollie dear. In and out before you can say Camden Town.”

A short while later, we reached a large door that I could only assume was the entrance to Alfie’s office. I gulped. It was now or never. 

“Remember,” Ollie hissed, under his breath. “Make it quick.”

I nodded as he knocked on the door. “Alfie?”

“The fuck you want then, Ollie?” Alfie’s thick cockney accent easily sounding through the thick wood of the door. 

“I’ve got someone here for you. It’s-“

“Ms Birch!” I pipped up, in my sweetest voice. “I’m sorry to bother you- I know you’re a busy man- I just need a moment of your time!”

Silence. Then a sigh. 

“Ah, the cleaning lady. Well, send the girl in, Ollie.”

Before Ollie could respond, I turned the door handle and walked in, slamming the door back in his face. I needed Alfie alone. 

It was a large, brightly lit office. An open window, which was the source of most of the light, gave a great view to the street below. Cabinets, holding an immeasurable amount of trinkets, stood like centuries along the walls. 

Alfie sat at the end of the room, his feet crossed and propped casually on his desk. He was reading an unknown document, his golden half moon glasses resting almost daintily on his nose. He was pushed back in his chair, his entire body leaning back so that it looked as though he was thoroughly relaxed. So much for being busy, I thought. 

He didn’t look up when I entered, his eyes remaining glued to the paper in front of him. With his free hand, however, he gestured to the mahogany chair in front of his desk. 

“Sit down, Ms Birch” He rocked slightly in his seat as he talked. 

My hart rate increased, as I knew how much was riding on the next few minutes of conversation. I sat heavily in the wooden chair, gripping the hand rests a little too tight. I faltered, the air of confidence I had with Ollie having been completely diminished by his presence. 

“Well I, er...?”

“Sometime today would be nice, eh?” He muttered.

“I’m going out tonight!” I blurted, before I was able to stop myself. “I-I’m going out tonight and know it’s not really proper to go alone, as a woman. I don’t know any other man in the area, so I was wondering if you’d join me?”

Alfie put his paper down, as I now had his full attention. 

Fuck. FUCK. I had completely fucked this! 

“Right, just to make sure I hear you correctly, yeah? You want me, your boss who’s at least...” he took a second to look me up and down, “ten years your senior, to take you out for a little drink and dancing, eh? Have I got that right?” There wasn’t malice in his voice, at least not very much. He sounded more perplexed than anything else.

“No dancing,” I gulped, starting to sweat. “I’m not very good at it.”

Alfie took his feet down from the desk, pulling himself forward to clasp those bear hands together. His glasses fell from his nose, resting on his chest, having been held up by a gold chain that hung around his neck. 

“Now, why would I do that, then?” He said softly, not taking his eyes off me for a second.

My heart dropped to my shoes. Yep, completely and utterly fucked.

“To be honest, I don’t know.”‘I sighed, defeated. “I-I knew it was a long shot. I didn’t honestly think you’d say yes.” 

Backtracking? A new low for you,Amy.

“I just needed someone I knew, someone I trusted. Plus, something tells me you might be fun, once you get out of the office.” I surprised myself with my boldness, “b-because you work so hard!”

He scratched his beard, the nervous tick coming out again.

“Where were you even thinking on going, then?” He asked, a bushy eyebrow raised. 

“I-I was thinking maybe The Jade Dagger-“

“Fuck off.” Alfie banged his hands on the desk, causing me to jump. “You come in here, having known me a few fucking weeks, yeah, and ask ME to take you to some fuckoff lowlife place like the Jade fucking Dagger? You’re off your fucking head, Ms Birch.” He spoke loudly now, and I felt my insides start to tremble.

“I-I’ve heard good things about the J-“

“Now if I were in your shoes, yeah, I’d say something like, ‘Mr Solomon’s, I’d love for you to take me to the ‘Black Watch.’ Real fucking place that is. Waiters, silverwear, fuck-off big piano, the whole fucking thing.” He stood up, and walked around the desk towards me, wagging his finger, in an almost theatrical manner. “Now, if you said something like that, I might consider it then, hmm? Something like that.”

My brain wasn’t working at all in that moment, so all I could do was stare at him with my mouth hanging open slightly. “I-I...”

He grabbed the arms of the chair and wrenched me around, so we were facing each other. He kept his knuckles wrapped around the hand rests on either side of me, so I was, in essence, trapped in between his arms. His face was mere inches from my own.

“Repeat after me, Ms Birch”. He said, lowly. “I, Ms Amy Birch.”

“I-I, Ms Amy Birch.”

“Do hereby ask Alfred Solomons”

“Do Hereby ask Alfred Solomons.”

“To take me, to the ‘Black Watch’ for a night of dinner and drinking. No dancing, because I’m no fucking good at it”

“To...To take me, to the..... ‘Black Watch’ for a night of dinner and drinking. No dancing because...ah, because I’m no fucking good at it.” My mouth was moving, but my brain still wasn’t comprehending what was going on. 

“Right then,” Alfie shouted, slamming the hand rests on either side of me with his palm. To my surprise, he was smiling. “Thank you for asking so nicely. Now was that so hard?”

I shook my head.

“Then because you asked so nicely, I accept.” Alfie made his way back to his desk, plopping himself down unceremoniously in the chair. “I’ll need your address so I know where to find you. I’ll be over at 8, yeah? Sun will have set by the , so the Shabbat will be over with. And do me a fucking favour.” He gestured to me with a free hand, while the other was busy reaching for his spectacles. “Wear something nice. Flashy. It’s a tip top joint.”

I blinked a few times. “You...you’ll do it?”

Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucksakes woman, where’s your head at, then? Yes, I just said I’d fucking take you out.” He put his glasses back on, and resumed his original position, feet on the desk, chair pushed back, reading his paper. “Now run along home before I change me mind.” He waved a hand as if to shoo me. 

I stood up abruptly, sending the chair back with a clatter. “T-thank you, Mr Solomons.”

“Alfie. When we’re out tonight, you call me Alfie.” He gave me one last look over the rims of those fancy glasses, a little twinkle in his eye.

I let out a laugh, purely out of disbelief, and shook my head. “Right..right. Thank you, Alfie. I’ll give Ollie my address.”

I turned on my heel and quickly excited the office. So quick, in fact, that I almost bowled over Ollie, who has been listening intently on the other side of the door, an ear pressed to the wood. 

“Hear anything interesting?” I quipped, only half joking. 

Ollie swallowed, and brushed back a few dark waves from his young face. He didn’t respond. 

I continued to walk down the hallway, with Ollie running to catch up. 

“Only that Alfie’s was taking out out tonight,” he muttered. “To the ‘Black Watch’.”

“Yes, and he’ll need my address.” I said promptly. Do you have some paper and ink?”


	6. The Black Watch-Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Alfie head to The Black Watch for their first outing, but it’s off to a rough start for Amy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Amy. She’s just too awkward.

I walked home in a daze, and didn’t even remember the journey back to the apartment. It finally hit me when I was back inside, sitting in front of the feeble vanity in my bedroom.

You did it, Amy. You did it! You’re going out on the town with Alfie, my subconscious trilled, purring happily. 

On one hand, I was so delighted I could scream. Phase two was a success! I now had Alfie right where I wanted him, and was one step closer to getting the information I needed to save Dad.

On the other hand, phase two meant diving deeper into my espionage role. It meant fishing for facts, walking a delicate line in an attempt to get Alfie to spill vital information. It also meant the possibility of seduction. 

I gulped as I stripped out of my brown dress. Could I do it? Could I dazzle one of the most dangerous men in London enough to divulge details on his dealings with the Blinders? Would I have to sleep with him to do it? It saddened me, that my very first time might be wasted on a target, and not a potential husband, but who was I kidding? With my life the way it was, I wouldn’t be marrying any time soon, if ever. This may be the only chance I get for a little intimacy. Still, it would have been nice to lose my virginity to someone I cared for, not a man that I had to sleep with in order to save Dad. 

Standing in nothing but my lingerie, I reached into my suitcase and pulled out the peacock dress. If there was ever a time to wear this dress, it was now. I really hoped it fit. With the stress of recent events, I’d noticed  
I had been eating more as a comfort, and said a quiet prayer to any gods that would listen that the dress would be able to accommodate me. 

Fortunately, it fit perfectly. I twirled and gazed into the small vanity mirror, twisting this way and that to make sure I looked presentable. The dress hugged all my soft curves, so that even my stomach, which had stuck out slightly, looked inviting and squeezable. The dress had a boat neck, which emphasized my delicate neck, my favourite physical feature. 

I touched up my makeup and hair, and donned some simply silver jewelry- a long, slender necklace and drop earrings- as I couldn’t afford some of the more extravagant Art Deco pieces rich flappers often wore. 

Not too shabby, I thought. But it was only mid afternoon, so there was some time to kill between now and when Alfie came calling. Taking out a scrap piece of paper, I began writing a letter to Sabini, attempting to be vague enough to not arouse suspicion, lest the letter fall into the wrong hands. 

‘I’ve got a date with a certain man tonight. Might turn into an eventful evening. Will send another letter with updates.......’

8:00 pm came around faster than I expected, and was announced to me by a comically loud car horn blast right at my front door. 

I quickly grabbed my purse and coat, and dashed out the door, almost forgetting to lock it behind me. 

Alfie was parked out front, driving a gorgeous jet black Bugatti, which clearly had just been washed, as it sparkled in the light of the street lamps. He was in the drivers seat and wore a handsome tuxedo, with a matching top hat and white scarf. He still sported his usual beard, but it was clear that he spent time combing and trimming the wiry hairs. The hair on his head had also been tamed, thanks to a generous helping of pomade. He was breathtaking. He dangled his arm haphazardly though the window and flashed me a cheeky smile. 

“Well then love, you gonna just stand there drooling over me all night, yeah, or are you gonna get in?”

My heart throbbed and heat rose to my cheeks. “S-sure, coming!”

Alfie stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door, bowing his head slightly.

“You don’t have a driver?” I teased, setting myself down on the white leather of the interior. The inside of the car smelled new and crisp and I couldn’t help but take an extra,subtle sniff for good measure. 

Alfie made his way back to the drivers side, and sat down hard beside me. The car lurched downward as he did so. My, he was a big lad. “I do, but three’s a crowd when it comes to dinner dates, innit?” He cast a sideways glance at me while he started the engine. “You don’t clean up half bad, do you?” His voice was soft and gentle, almost a purr. 

“I try.” I was blushing profusely now, not really used to compliments. Clearing my throat, I looked straight ahead through the windshield. “Right, to ‘The Black Watch’, Mr Solomons?”

“Alfie,” he corrected, his voice taking on a slightly steely edge. “You’re not going out with me fucking father now, are you?”

We drove, mostly in silence as well travelled deeper into London. The night was cool, but tolerable. The moon was full, but shrouded in wisps of cloud, and the stars that dotted the skies sparkled like Swarovski crystals. 

Some time later, we pulled up to the front of ‘The Black Watch’. A young, bespectacled man in a perfectly pressed suit was waiting for us. He spoke through the window to Alfie. 

“It’s good to see you again, Mr Solomons. Allow me to park your vehicle.” 

Alfie grabbed his hat from from the back seat and tossed the car keys to the man through the window. “Thank you Reggie, good lad. How’s your Dad been keeping, eh?” 

“Cantankerous as always.” Reggie replied, a toothy grin crawling across his face. 

“Good, Good.” Alfie leapt out of the car and walked around to my side, swinging the black door of the Bugatti open for me. “Reggie, I’d like you to meet my date for this evening, Ms Amy Birch. Amy, this is Reggie. His father owns the place- we go way back. Schoolmates, we were. Would have fought in the war together too if he hadn’t caught fucking polio, eh Reggie?”

Reggie nodded and turned to address me, running a critical eye over my frame. He was probably wondering what an average woman like myself was doing with a London Gangster. I offered my hand for him to take. “It’s a pleasure, Reggie. Your father has great taste.”

It was true. The building was well lit and stood out like a white beacon, shining proudly through the darkness. Granite steps that had been meticulously swept to clear any debris, lead up to a gorgeous set of wooden double doors, with brass doorknobs as large as Alfie’s fist. The club, or hall, or whatever you wanted to call it, had several levels, with every floor above the ground sporting covered balconies, festooned with lights and flowers. I could hear beautiful classical music wafting from the open windows and in that moment, I realized how fancy this place was. I didn’t belong here. 

I was startled by the sound of a car door slamming shut, as Reggie climbed into the drivers side of the Bugatti. With a wave, he started the engine and drove off further down the street, leaving Alfie and I alone in the shadows of the glowing building. 

Alfie took my hand gently and started towards the stairs, making sure to slow his pace, so I could keep up with his strides. 

We reached the top of the stairs and Alfie opened the huge doors that lurched laboriously on their ancient hinges. I stood in the entranceway and gasped. The building was even more marvellous than the outside. There was a massive chandelier hanging from the Art Deco ceiling, looming over the guests below like some sort of deity. True to Alfie’s word, there was a fuck-off big piano off to the side. The pianist was standing just to the left of the instrument, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he enjoyed his break. 

An older gentleman, most likely a waiter, was at our sides in an instant. “Good evening Mr Solomons. The Captain’s room is ready for you.”

“We get our own room?” I asked Alfie, dumbfounded. 

Both men turned to look at me, and it became obvious how out of place I was there.

“Yes love, we’ve got our own room. Made sure of that, I did.” Alfie took me lightly by the back of the arm. “Lead the way then, waiter.” 

We climbed a sparkling marble staircase up to the second floor, and were lead past a few occupied rooms, positively humming with conversation. We reached the Captain’s room, which was an intimate location, but no less beautiful than the rest of the building. The lights had been dimmed, large wax candles were stationed at the large set table, and I could clearly see we had our own balcony. 

“Oh Alfie,” I whispered, a hand over my mouth. 

“Told you,” he smirked, sauntering into the room, “real fancy fucking place.”

“That’s the biggest understatement of the year,” I snorted, walking behind him. “Alfie-I...you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

Alfie made his way over to the table and pulled out a chair for me to sit. “Was no trouble. Reggie’s father owed me a favour, yeah. And besides, it’s not like I fucking decorated the place.” He sat down unceremoniously at the other end of the table and removed his hat. “Just needed to make a phone call-that’s all,” he said, almost dismissively.

“Even so,” I continued, “thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Innit?”

The waiter cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie. “What are you drinking this evening?

“Whiskey,” Alfie said, without even thinking.

“And for the lady?”

Wanting to play it cool in front of the two older men, I chimed in “whiskey, please.”

“You like whiskey?” Alfie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” I lied, attempting to be suave. “ I adore the stuff.”

Alfie made a noise in his throat and took his eyes away for me, in favour of investigating the menu in front of him.

We waited in silence until the waiter retuning with our drinks. “Two whiskeys,” he announced, setting the crystal glasses in front of us. 

“Should we make a toast?” I asked, slowly lifting my glass.”

“What do you want to toast,then?” Alfie inquired back, taking up his own drink. 

I thought for a moment and with a grin, I raised the glass. “To the bakers of Camden Town. May their yeast rise as surely as the sun.”

Alfie chuckled and lightly tapped his glass against my own “To the bakers of Camden Town.” He brought the drink to his lips and easily drank it down. I brought the amber liquid to my face and eyed it, uneasily. I’d never actually drank whiskey before. A Dark Mild was usually my drink of choice, and that was still very rarely. I wasn’t really one for alcohol. 

“Everything all right? “ Alfie asked, interrupting my thoughts. His blue eyes were fixed on me. 

“I-oh yeah. It’s nothing.” I squeaked and brought the glass to my lips, downing the fiery liquid as fast as I could. My cheeks and throat immediately began to burn. I clamped my mouth shut to avoid making my discomfort obvious, but that only lasted for so long. I opened my mouth to take a breath, and the air I inhaled only served to burn my throat even more. I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out in a very undignified fit of coughing. Tears were streaming down my face and my cheeks practically glowed red. 

Well, that was embarrassing.

After my coughing subsided, I looked over to Alfie, who was grinning from ear to ear. “A lover of whiskey, eh? What a bit of fiction.” He burst out laughing, slamming an open hand on the table top. Thankfully the waiter wasn’t far away, so Alfie waved to summon him. “Well, waiter, it seems that I’ve brought a liar to this table, as she didn’t really want to have whiskey in the first place. What you you actually drink, dove. The truth this time, yeah?”

“Err, water and cordial?” I muttered, sheepishly looking down at the silverware

Alfie erupted into another fit of raucous laughter that practically shook the table. “Yeah, yeah, water and cordial, waiter,” Alfie said, while wiping a tear from his eye. 

“I’m sorry, that was foolish of me,” I said quietly, feeling even more ashamed.

Alfie nodded his head. “Yeah it was. Silly girl. Were you wanting to off yourself before we could get to the main course?”

It was my turn to laugh, as my shame slowly started to dissipate. It was funny, in retrospect. 

“Never pretend to be something that you’re not,” Alfie said, matter of factly, right as the waiter came back with the water. “Especially not when drink is involved.”

“Thank you,” I muttered to the waiter, taking a generous sip of water. The dash of cordial tickled my tongue pleasantly, and I asserted that I’d made the right on drinks this time around. 

“What will the guests be requesting for dinner?” The waiter inquired, deadpan. He shot a slight disapproving glance in my direction. 

“Right, I think I’ll have the salmon, then.” Alfie said quickly, scratching his beard. “Amy?”

I looked at the menu one more time before the responding. “The ham looks rather nice, I think I’ll have that.”

Alfie’s face changed instantly, and he straightened up in his seat. “Did you hear that?” He said sarcastically in the direction of the waiter. “I’m Jewish, see, so I think that was deliberate. So I don’t kiss her after dinner.”

“Oh Jesus I....” I fumbled for a moment, looking at the menu again. The silence in the room was deafening during those moments. “T-the lamb will be fine,” I squeaked. 

The waiter, who’s expression had not changed throughout our brief exchange, nodded. “Very good, Ms.” With that, he turned on his heel and excited the room rather quickly, leaving me to stew in the silence. 

“Hmmm, isn’t that interesting,” Alfie mused and leaned back in his chair. “So the bird DOES want to kiss me after all?”

“Yes, I mean-no! I mean...I just didn’t want to offend!” I felt like running out of ‘The Black Watch’ all the way back to Sabini, as long as it meant leaving this situation. I put my head in my hands and groaned. 

“Ah, come on then.” Alfie chuckled. “ I was just pulling your leg, dove. No need to take it too personal like. I found it rather entertaining, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m glad someone did.,” I said glumly, setting the cotton napkin on my lap.


	7. The Black Watch- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at The Black Watch starts to heat up, but has Amy gone a bit too far?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT AHOY!
> 
> Here’s where the smut starts guys. It’s not too bad so far, and it’s all consensual, but definitely a big rougher, just so you know!

As the evening carried on, I allowed myself to relax a bit more and soon forgot about the embarrassing earlier events. While we enjoyed our meal, we conversed loudly, bonding over our mutual love of animals -especially dogs- and our interests in theology. I was a Protestant, but was intrigued by Alfie’s stories of Jewish traditions. He even taught me a few words in Hebrew. 

Throughout the evening, he ordered more whiskey and in an attempt to make up for my earlier blunder, I ordered another as well. I made sure to not breath in harshly afterwards, which definitely helped things. 

Now we were both a few drinks in. Alfie was starting to get red in the face and was laughing more than usual. For me, the world felt a lot more wonderful than it had even been, so I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Oh, oh Alfie,” I cried, then giggled again. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had!”

“Really?” Alfie asked, his speech slightly slurred. He motioned the bartender silently to let him know we’d have a another round. “How’s that, then?”

“Well, when your mother dies at as you’re being born, your brother is shredded to pieces at twenty-one, and your Dad’s becoming a living ghost, it’s hard to enjoy things...life...you know.” 

Ease up there, Amy, my subconscious warned. You don’t want to be careless. 

I dismissed the thought with a wave of my hand.”Hell, I’ve never had a man kiss me! Imagine for a second, Alfie.” I reached for the glass the waiter topped up. “I’m twenty three, okay? I should be married and have three kids by now. But no! I’m a sad, lower class woman who’s only highlight in life has been getting drunk with a gangster.” 

Fuck.

“So you know...you know my line of work?” Alfie said quietly, seeming more sober than he has been a few minutes prior. 

I froze, panic flitting across my features. Had I blown my cover? No, not yet. I downed the glass of whiskey, praying for courage. 

“Look Alfie, I may be a bit of a rube, but I’m not fucking daft.” I dropped the glass back onto the table, loudly. “I hear what people say. The rumours. The whispers. But I know they’re not just those things. I see the dingy men, those barrels you send in boats down the canal. Your hired muscle, lurking at the back of the shop. You’re a gangster, Alfie. I’m assuming you make the shops in your territory pay you protection money, you make something like rum or gin at the back of the shop and you’re probably into some racketeering shenanigans as well.” I was running my mouth quite a bit, and internally, I hoped that I was able to get ahold of myself before it was too late. “So in short, yes, Mr Solomons. I know your ‘line of work’.” 

“What does that say about you then?” Alfie said dangerously, leaning in towards me. He definitely wasn’t drunk. 

Amy, he played you! You’re a fucking idiot! 

He reached over and gently played with a dark lock of my hair. “Little innocent girl, never even been fucked before, wants to work with a gangster? You knew who I was, yet you still wanted to meet me here.” 

Alfie moved closer to me, his eyes like molten sapphires, burning into mine. “So I’ve got three theories, want to hear them, eh?”

“Go on,”I said softly wrapping my hand around the glass filled with leftover cordial and water.

“Theory 1: you are as you say you are- a desperate girl, who needs a fucking job no matter who her employer is. She may just have a thing for her boss too.” He winked at me, but there was no playfulness in his face. 

“Theory Two: Right, you’re a whore, who gets her fucking rocks off shagging gangsters.

“Theory three,” he growled with malice dripping from his voice. “You’re a fucking spy, and you invited me here to try and loosen me up.”

My knuckles turned white around the crystal glass, as I splashed whatever was left in the vessel right in Alfie’s face. Rage burned white hot through my veins and I stood up so fast out of my chair, that it sent the beautiful wooden seat careening backwards. 

“Fuck you, Alfie,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “ I stepped so that I was right in front of his chair. With him sitting, and me still standing, we were the same height. Almost. 

“How dare you call me those things?!” I was yelling now, my body shaking. “ I came to you because I needed to provide for my family! I asked you to to go out with me, because despite my better judgement, I took a shine to you. But now I see my error. You are just another fucking gangster!” I shoved his shoulders clumsily with both of hands. 

In a split second, Alfie grabbed both my wrists and pulled me roughly onto his lap. We were so close that our noses were touching. Heat rolled off his entire body like a furnace, scorching the exposed flesh on my thighs. He was breathing rapidly, and locked me in with with a stare so fierce, it could have turned me to stone. His handsome face was so intense now, leagues different than just a moment before. 

My chest heaved and I still shook with rage, but  
now something else was happening. I was so mad at him, but that instinct was replaced with a feeling more base. A boiling heat, not Alfie’s, but my own, writhing below my stomach, set my skin on fire. My soft chest, which up against Alfie’s, was oddly sensitive, and for some reason, I had to fight back the compulsion to rub my aching breasts up against him. Alfie held my wrists fast, his eyes locked into mine. His hips shifted and rolled beneath me, and I became aware of a sudden hardness rubbing urgently against my womanhood. His hardness struck a small and sensitive spot below, and it took all of my strength to fight down an animalistic noise that was hell bent on escaping from my mouth. My hips ground down on his almost automatically, trying to recapture that wonderful feeling again. Alfie made a guttural noise, deep in his throat.

“Yeah love, I am just another fucking gangster.” With that, Alfie’s mouth crashed into mine, his soft lips enveloping mine in a explosion of anger and passion. I gasped in surprise, and he used that window of opportunity to ram his tongue deep down my throat. I could taste an odd mixture of rum and cordial. In spite of everything, I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, and he responded in kind by growling softly. 

My body melted into his chest as I began to kiss him back, my full lips pressing into his. I opened and closed my hands, still trapped in his iron grip, that movement only serving to cement his hold. I felt helpless...so...deliciously helpless. The heat in my stomach blazed and I couldn’t help but notice my legs beginning to tremble. I thrust against his hardness again, and was met with an equally powerful movement from his hips, reminding me just how strong he was. I wondered, was that as rough as he could be?

This....this wasn’t what I expected my first kiss to be like. But I was ashamed to say I loved  
it. To be ravaged by this dangerous man, who was as close to killing me as he was kissing me, sent thrills up my spine. And now that he was kissing me, that meant he didn’t think I was a spy, right?

Alfie broke the kiss, still holding my wrists above my head.

“You fucking minx,” he chuckled , his whiskers tickling my cheeks. “But you definitely kiss like someone who has no idea what they’re doing.”

I was taken aback, my anger slowly starting to fade. “It was that bad?”

“Now don’t misunderstand me, Ms Birch,” Alfie whispered, releasing my wrists and setting his hands on my fleshy hips. “That was fucking magical. But it was something I had to test. You’ve always got to test a theory, isn’t that right?”

“And what were your findings?”

Alfie squeezed my hips . “Ahh, a little of a theory one and a little of theory two. I believe you now, yeah, that you’re an innocent girl just trying to help your family....but I also think you get your rocks off to gangsters.” He gave me a wolfish grin, that lit the fire in my loins all over again. I audibly panted. 

“Do you vet all your new hires this way?” I placed my small hands on his shoulders. 

Alfie thought for a moment, “not Ollie.”

Alfie and I shared a small laugh that echoed around the room. 

He continued on. “Now, If I had my way, I’d fuck you right on this table. I’d fuck you so hard, right, that every patron in this building would know my fucking name.” His eyes were hungry and animalistic, like a lion when it stalks a gazelle. “But you’re a virgin, and I don’t think it’ would be fair of me to wreck you so early on, would it? Not in a place like this anyways.”

“Alfie! I shouted, embarrassed. “That’s so direct!”

“Yeah, what of it then? Are you saying you wouldn’t want me to bend your round ass over this table right now?” Alfie squeezed my hips again, and I felt his hardness twitch beneath me. 

My heart felt like it was going to explode. I kicked myself, because every cell of my being was screaming for him to take me right then and there, and fuck the consequences. But I knew I had to draw this out, to play with him a bit more. Besides, if Alfie decided that I was just good for one fuck, that would be the end of our tryst and I wouldn’t get any information from him. That was a large part of what I was feeling, but there was something else, lodged deep down within myself, that longed to court Alfie properly. To build something together.

A relationship?

I grudgingly slipped off of Alfie’s lap and folded my arms across my chest. “Yes...eventually.” I walked over to the balcony, my back to him, but remained talking. “but like you said- I’m a virgin and haven’t done anything like this before. So I want it done right.”

I heard the wood squeak as Alfie rose from his seat, walking over to me. “so what did you have in mind, hmm?”

“I want to be courted- romanced!” I walked out onto the balcony and gazed into the starry sky. 

I heard Alfie grumble behind me. “So...You want the roses, and the chocolates and the fancy clothes and all those other gifts, then?”

I turned around and grinned. “No! Not material things! I want walks through the park, intimate dinners, lounging by a crackling fire sharing stories...”

“Fucking kill me.” Alfie groaned, putting his rough hands on my bare shoulders. He placed his mouth close to my ear, his hot breath tickling my neck. “How’s about this. I’ll do the dinners, walks in the parks, and flowers, yeah?”

“Walks in the park, sharing stories over a fire, and chocolates,” I retorted. Alfie pulled away from me, his eyebrows raised, and the ends of his mouth turned into a small smile. 

“Fuck me- alright, chocolates, walks in the park and dinners, final offer.” He negotiated. He scratched his beard, waiting for my response, the grin not leaving his face. 

“Deal.” 

Alfie spit on his palm and grasped my hand.

“Uh, Alfie! That’s gross. And no spitting!” I shrieked and tried to pull my hand out of his own. 

Alfie pulled me closer, his lips finding their way to my pale neck. “Mmm, sorry dove, that wasn’t in our terms.”


	8. The Drive Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Alfie head home, but Amy decides to try her luck one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, you’re going to get yourself killed, girl!

The drive home was quiet, but incredibly beautiful. It must have been just before midnight-I didn’t know, I wasn’t keeping track. The moon hung low and heavy in the sky, like a china saucer, the clouds having receded to provide an clear view. The street lights glowed soft and yellow, causing the shadows of everything around them to stretch and yawn like waking children. There weren’t many people out, but the ones that were walked with an odd gait, probably from too many drinks. 

The vehicle ahead of us braked suddenly, causing Alfie to curse and follow suit, throwing his arm out to prevent me from flying forward into the dashboard. Naturally, as his arm was at chest height for me, his large hand found itself covering one of my breasts. He squeezed it almost automatically, like someone testing the ripeness of a plum. 

“Mmm, I always thought you had nice tits. Guess I was right,” Alfie muttered, putting a stop to the string of curses he shouted at the driver in front of us. 

“You...you think so?” I answered, shyly. No one had ever really made comments about my breasts before.

“Yeah, although this dress is in the way, innit? Can’t enjoy their softness under all these fucking beads.” He sounded playfully thwarted as he lightly jostled my chest.

“Well, I-I’d like to give you a more...unobstructed experience.” I said softly, heat rising to my cheeks. “AFTER a walk in Primrose Hill park tomorrow.”

Alfie sucked his teeth and removed his hand from my chest to scratch his beard once, then returned it to the wheel. “Dove, as much as I’d love that- and trust me, I would fucking cherish such a view, yeah, I’ve got something on tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s okay!” I said, worrying about coming on a bit too strong. “I know how busy you are.” Something in the back in my mind pestered me, like a songbird. This is gangster business...ask him!

“Legitimate business, or et cetera?” I asked, trying to be subtle. 

“Et Cetera,” Alfie said, his voice becoming hollow. 

Fear started to creep into my chest, although I wasn’t sure why. “Will...it be dangerous?”

Alfie gave me a sideways look and I wondered if I’d overstepped. He was silent for a few moments, then responded. “Not for me, no. See, a man’s coming to meet me on my own turf, yeah. Lot of balls on that fucker to be coming to London.”

“A rival, then? Sounds like he’s not from around here. Is that common, outsiders trying to muscle their way in?”

“You know, for an innocent little girl, you seem to have a pretty keen interest in my work.” 

“Just making conversation!” I shot back, defensively. “and besides, isn’t it common for a girl to ask her beau about his workday?”

“Not in our line of work it ain’t.” Alfie said quickly. An awkward silence filled the car like a balloon. I could hear the blood pounding urgently in my head. Thought I faced straight ahead, I could see Alfie looking at me from the corner of my eye. 

After an uncountable amount of time, he sighed. “Right, don’t go moping around like some widow,” he said softly. “It’s just not safe to go divulging this kind of information to a civilian. For your sake and mine.”

“Okay,” I said, making sure to add a tangible hint of sadness to my voice. That did the trick. Alfie cursed and smacked his palm against the steering wheel. “Yeah, he’s from fucking Birmingham, alright? Nothing to worry about, just an annoying little gang from up North that thinks he can muscle his way into Jewish and Italian territory. I’m going to set him straight.”

I nodded. “Will you kill him?” 

Alfie grinned so that I could see some of his golden fillings glittering in amongst his white teeth. “Not if he’s smart. If he’s smart, he’ll run back to Birmingham with his tail between his legs. If he’s less smart, he’ll try to make a deal with me. If he’s a fucking idiot, he’ll try to fight me, which won’t end well for him.”

“What do you think he’ll try to do?” I asked gently.

“Probably the second option.”

“Do you want to make a deal with Birmingham gangsters?” I realized how risky the question was, but this was the exact information I needed to give Sabini- proof that Alfie Solomons was going to make a deal with Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders. 

Alfie drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and bit his lower lip, clearly deep in thought. “Would be some positives, yeah. Would piss off some of my enemies, but then again, I like them fucking pissed. Right then,” he said pulling over to the curb of a quiet street, which I recognized instantly. I was back at my apartment. “Casa de Amy, right on time.”

I reached for my purse, not taking my eyes off of Alfie. “Thank you, for everything.” I leaned over and gave him a chaste, soft kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah well, don’t fucking mention it.” He said, scratching his head. I turned to exit the Bugatti when I heard him speak again. “Oh, Amy?”

“Yes Alfie?” My heart drumming a tattoo against my chest. 

“About that walk... I can do Monday, after your shift, how’s about that?”

I smiled sweetly, exiting the car and slamming the door. “Sounds heavenly,” I said to him through the thin glass window, winking.


End file.
